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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28745754">Dear stranger</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/420_im_lonely/pseuds/420_im_lonely'>420_im_lonely</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hermitcraft RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Fluff, Gen, I dont like how the character tags have thier real names, M/M, Okay like 6-10 years older than me, i actully don’t know how old they are, i just have a rough idea, its so sweet, still tho, sweet baby boys i say about men twice my age, this was a vent fic but then i watched Hilda, what is coherent tagging? Idk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 14:13:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,874</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28745754</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/420_im_lonely/pseuds/420_im_lonely</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He write letters. To no one. To everyone. To someone. He writes and writes. But he never gives them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mumbo/Grian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dear stranger</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>‘I’m writing a book, its filled with letters, all addressed to my ‘dear stranger’, they are all for you.’ </p><p>Grian leaned back on his stairs. The cool wind was a nice difference from the stuffy heat of the upside down. His mansions steps were nice and cold against his back as the sun set. Grian streched his arms and snapped his note book closed. It was getting late, and he should be going to bed. The shopping district could wait another day. </p><p>As Grain crawled into his little nest of a bed, he pulled out his notebook and pen, he started another letter. </p><p>[Dear stranger</p><p>I hate unnecessary words, showy words, words only there for the aesthetic. I hate empty pages filled with meaningless words. But sometimes, they are all i have, they make my skating hands write something beautiful, even if it has no meaning. I hate them, starry and annoying, in the way and over used. I want my words to mean something. But my meaning gets lost in vocabulary. </p><p>I hate poems and sonnets, i hate speeches and monologue. I hate words with no meaning. I hate those beautiful empty words. I want long books and heartfelt letters, not a poem abut a mans dead lover. I want words to say what they mean, i want harsh and emotional, i want to the point, not empty and forgettable. I want to make a point and have it be remembered. I want my stories to leave you broken and hollow. An icy hole where your heart once was. I want to show you the power of words. I wan to cut you down with my pen. </p><p>I want emotional confessions written on napkins and shoved into pockets, i want anger poured onto the back of a math worksheet, give me young, give me wild, give me feeling. Give me a place where such entreated emotion is accepted, give me raw, gut wrenching lines tucked in folders and sketchbooks, give me answers to life’s questions scrawling over someone’s arm. </p><p>Give me letters that convey meaning no one can recognize. Meanings that feel impossible, that hurt your heart and still warm it, meaning that shows you what the writer is feeling. Give me fiction with meaning, letters with emotion, give me the pain, i want to feel it all. </p><p>Maybe ive lost it, maybe I’m not who i though i was. </p><p>-G]</p><p>He sighed, looking over the words, they were hypocritical and fake, but it was the closest he had to conveying what ever was in his head. He tucked the journal under his pillow, keeping it close as he slept. He dreamed of giving the journal away, to the person he ment it for. It felt like a nightmare. </p><p>—</p><p>The sun streamed into the windows. Leaving golden splatters on the floor, Grain was content lazing in a patch of sunlight, scribbling in his notebook. </p><p>[Dear Stranger</p><p>When we were young, we were so full of life, os happy and carefree. I shouldn’t say we, i dont know you and you dont know me. We could be two fundamentally different creatures. </p><p>When i was young, i think i was happy. For a while at least, i dont know what changed, but I’m sad now. Maybe it was the social shift as i grew up, maybe i changed more than i realized, more than i wanted to. Its sad to think about the past, all the things done and said, all the opportunities missed and problems left unsolved, all the chances to get what i wanted, what i desired, all the chances i missed. </p><p>Ive changed so much since i was younger. M not innocent anymore. I’m not kind, I’m not obedient, I’m not that sam kid i was. I waste my time with empty words and fancy phrases a that dont mean anything. I want rage and power, but i crave intimacy, i want someone to care for me, to hold me, to tell me its alright. I crave friendship and affection, but I don’t know who’s to ask for it. I want to be with someone when I’m struggling, i want help. </p><p>But if all i do is accept help, I’m a burden. If I have nothing to give, I’m worth nothing, if i can’t help anyone, then i dont deserve help. </p><p>It’s weird, watching people move on and grow, watching the time continue to tick, knowing the world will still spin without you. I know people have separate lives, I know everything is complicated, life is just so surreal. That man walking down the street could have a past just as dark as mine or a future 3 times brighter, he could die tomorrow or live to 100, it sodent make a defense to me and i dont make a difference to him. Its so weird, its so strange, it feels unreal yet this has always been my reality, life is confusing and people are insane. </p><p>-G]</p><p>“Whatcha got there?” Grian jumped at the voice, he snapped the book closed and stuffed it in his sweater, hurriedly trying to hide the seemingly sacred pages from Mumbo.</p><p>"Nothing for you to worry about."</p><p>Mumbo laughed slightly,  around that made Grians heart jump. </p><p>"Grian," mumbos voice was alot softer, "I've been meaning to ask you, are you okay? You've been acting different," he gestured to the notebook, "and it is worrying me."</p><p>Grians mouth was dry, he didnt plan this, he didnt want to give up the note book yet. </p><p>"Grian, you've been disappearing so much lately, you dont participate as much as you used to. You dont talk to us anymore, you dont talk to me.</p><p>"Its nothing, dont worry about it." </p><p>"If you insist." Mumbo sighed and smiled sadly. He turned to leave. </p><p>"Would you-" Grian reached out for him, not sure what he wanted to say. "Not leave? Just stay for a bit?" </p><p>Mumbo smiled at him. "Of course, anything for my favorite ball of rage." He sat down, leaning against the bookshelf. Grian was splayed out on the floor in front of him.</p><p>They sat in silence for a while, Mumbo and started the jukebox and it played quietly in the background. Grian was still on the floor, this time sketching up blueprints for a huge city, Mumbo and drawing redstone plans for it too, they wanted to make town with a huge wall and bell towers, right on the harbor. </p><p>—</p><p>Two days later, they stared the city together. Mumbo laid down the roads and Grian began to bulid the suburbs. They worked quickly, the wall towered above them and the sun threw cool shadows over their sidewalks. </p><p>They bulid the shops and the city mainframe together, town hall and court house, jail and fire stations. The harbor was made packed with markets and shops, the waves lapped at the stone pillars that the docks sat upon. Grian bull it 3, 4, 5 masted ships in the harbor. </p><p>The bell towers filled the walls, and soon, it was all done. Grian placed the last few books in the library, hiding the hidden room that lead to an extensive magical library. They smiled at each other, their city was done. </p><p>—</p><p>Dear stranger, </p><p>I dont want to finish this project, i dont want to stop working i with him.</p><p>—</p><p>Grian and Mumbo sat ontop of the library, laughing lightly with each other as they watched the villagers work in their new city. </p><p>“Gri, this was fun, this city is beautiful.”</p><p>“All that’s left is to name it.” </p><p>“How about, Grianburg?” </p><p>Grian laughed, a bright sound, “No! How about Mumboton?” </p><p>“Not at all!”  </p><p>“Grumboville?”</p><p>The town sat there laughing for awhile. Until the sun was going down an the birds began to perch in their nests for the night. </p><p>“Lets get some sleep, we can name it tomorrow.” Mumbo pulled Grian to his feet, leading the smaller to the homely little house built in the city’s forest. </p><p>It was cozy inside, soft light and a well stocked kitchen, Mumbo lead him to a cozy bedroom an dropped the exhausted builder on the bed. “Come on, you dont want to sleep in jeans,” Mumbo grabbed some joggers and a hoodie from the dresser, he helped Grain wiggle out of the jeans and dirt stained jumper.</p><p>Mumbo smiled foundly at the sleeping architech, absolutely drowning in the large hoodie Mumbo had given him. He climbed into the bed next to him, also in some joggers and a T-shirt. Grian was so warm. Mumbo held the smaller to him, he really missed Grian, he had been holing up in his base, and this project was pure bliss to Mumbo because he was with Grian.</p><p>Mumbo just laid there with Grian, he craved having Grian close, he didnt want to let go. He loved him. He loved him so much. It was perfect i that moment, he could pretend that Grian was his and he could pretend that nothing else mattered. It was the life he wanted in that small little house. And in that moment, he really didnt want the sun to rise. </p><p>—</p><p>Grian woke up and he was warm, comfortably warm. The bed was soft and he could hear Mumbos breathing beside him, he could feel the tallers arms wrapped around him, holding him tightly against his chest. Grian felt his face heating up, he should probably get up, but Mumbo had a death grip on him, and he didnt want to wake him. He’d just pretend to be asleep a let Mumbo wake up first, yeah, that was a good idea.</p><p>—</p><p>Mumbo rolled out of bed sadly, he left Grian curled up in the blankets and started to the kitchen to start breakfast. Making eggs and bacon was simple enough, he wasnt the best cook but he knew how to do somethings, contrary to popular belief. He Etho the table and grabbed some fruit just the aesthetic. Silently as he could, he padded back to the bedroom. </p><p>“Gri, Gri i made breakfast.” Mumbo carefully shook the smaller awake.</p><p>“What’d ya make?” </p><p>“Eggs and bacon.” Grian was up in an instant.</p><p>“Bacon? Lets go!”</p><p>Mumbo smiled as Grian hopped out of bed and ran down the hall, the hoodie was past his knees and he looked like a little kid running for candy. Mumbo chuckled as he left the room, but something caught his eye, a small notebook. Poking out of the pocket of Grians jeans. </p><p>He heard Grian clattering in the kitchen, ‘it couldnt hurt to just take small peak?’ </p><p>He opened up the small book, words swam in his mind, letters, so many of them, and what they said... he snapped it close and hurried to the kitchen. Grian was standing on a stool, reaching for the cups on the top shelf.</p><p>“Need some help?”</p><p>“Not at all!” Mumbo watched the stool wobble precariously. He stepped forward and steadied Grian, wrapping an arm around the smaller side waist. They were nearly the same height like his, Grian maybe 2 inches taller. And Mumbo wasnt thinking when he leaned forward, softly kissing the blond, his heart nearly exploded when Grian kissed back. </p><p>The two pulled back for air, lightly laughing. </p><p>“Grumboville it is then.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Pair of wings by Frankie Rose<br/>10/10 song i love it</p></blockquote></div></div>
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